New Start
by ILM
Summary: It's New Year's Eve and he's with her, even if he's always thought it a little odd to celebrate one day becoming another. But she seems to want to say something that might make next year far more interesting.


**I was working on chapter 3 of Unbearable and this just popped into my head and wouldn't leave me until I started putting it down. Short, for me - and definitely less agonising for the characters than normal.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine, even though they aren't as unhappy this time!**

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They're drunk when she says it.

"You gonna kiss me at midnight?" Her voice is low and almost a slur, but he knows damn well what she says.

Even with all they've drunk tonight creating fogging his brain, he hesitates. He hesitates because they still have something to protect here, even if they are far too close on his couch, her head nestled against his shoulder, his arm loosely hooked around her so that his hand sits at the dip of her waist as she leans against him. He hesitates because he's still a gentleman, underneath it all, and he's sure he's not supposed to be kissing any woman before being certain she knows what she's doing. And he hesitates because his mind is screaming at him to catalogue this moment, the moment she finally admits that this isn't going away and yes, she does want to do something about it as much as he does.

"You want me to kiss you at midnight?" he says tentatively, twisting his neck to look down at her.

Her face tilts up towards him. "Haven't made my mind up yet," she says with a slight grin.

He can't help laughing. "Okay. You let me know when you do."

She reaches across him to slip her fingers through his free hand; his other is now making little strokes against her skin where her shirt has ridden up slightly.

"Does that mean you want to?" she asks, almost shyly.

He feels like a teenager who hasn't learned how to read a girl's signals yet. "Kens, you trying to catch me out here?"

She sniggers. "Maaaybe." She shifts even closer to him and now he thinks it's almost a cuddle. "Maybe I just want to hear you say it."

He bites his lip. "Kensi, you're not sober."

She pulls a face. "Honestly, you think I'm some kind of lightweight? No, I'm not sober but I've not taken leave of my senses." She lifts herself slightly to whisper in his ear. "Answer the question."

The low hum of the television in the background is comforting as he tries to formulate an answer. He watches the crowds on the screen for a few seconds before he says anything.

"Yes," he says simply. "Yes, I want to." He looks at her. "You're going to hate me tomorrow for saying that."

She shrugs her shoulders, the movement jolting his arm slightly. "I already knew and I don't hate you."

He tips his head forward, his forehead meeting hers. "There's a difference between knowing and hearing."

It's her turn to bite her lip. "Not any more."

For a moment, he doesn't respond. All he wants to do is kiss her now, but something in him enjoys the teasing, the flirting, the anticipation.

She settles back against him, turning her attention to the television as if nothing has happened. It's been 2013 on the east coast for nearly three hours already and he always wants to laugh at how everyone insists on celebrating a fairly arbitrary date change.

"Three minutes to go," she murmurs, without looking him.

He has no idea what will happen. Nothing with them is ever a foregone conclusion and there's every possibility that she will let the moment pass without taking the step she now knows he wants.

He curses himself. There _is_ a difference between knowing and hearing: for however long she's known how he feels, she's been able to deny it. She can't pretend she doesn't know any more.

"Two minutes," she says quietly, shifting a little beneath his arm and turning her head to face him.

He meets her gaze, determined to let her choose their pathway. "Made your mind up yet?"

She smiles. "You think I'd tell you even if I had?"

"A man can hope for a little prior warning."

"I think you've had enough practice at knowing whether a woman is going to kiss you or not," she says dryly, moving even closer. Her hand moves to his face, her fingers gentle against his stubble.

"Not you, though," he murmurs, so close to her that his eyes can't focus on her properly.

She angles her head to glance at the clock on the screen. "One minute."

His fingers tip her chin up so that she has to look at him. "I'd settle for a clue."

Her smile widens, she swings her leg over his and suddenly he has Kensi in his lap and he doesn't need a clue.

"Happy now?" she breathes, her eyes sparkling, her hands moving to thread her fingers through his hair.

In the moment before their lips meet, he only has one answer.

"_Yes_."

Next year he'll have a proper reason to celebrate.

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**Short and sweet so I hope you enjoyed it!**


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